


The Trial of Ourselves

by Thymesis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange 2018, Gen, POV Third Person, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: “I…I let you down most of all, General.”“Yes, you did,” Leia said flatly, and Poe had to work hard not to wince at that rebuke. “But so have a lot of other men in my life. My husband, my son. Even my own twin brother. I could be sad about it, or wallow in resentment or grief.” She smiled, soft and wistful. “Mostly, though, I’ve just needed to get out of my own way—and if we’re going to defeat the First Order, that’s what you need to do too. Do you think you can do that, Poe?”Poe faces a reckoning for his many misdeeds during and after the evacuation of D’Qar.





	The Trial of Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



> Posted to the exchange on January 14, 2018.

“He should be court-martialed.”

“Forget that. We already know what he did. Insubordination, sabotage, mutiny, treason. Take your pick of charges and throw him in the brig.”

“No, the brig’s too good for the being who lost the entire fleet. Execute him and be done with it!”

A roar of approval rose from the gathering. If there were any dissenters, they were wisely declining to speak.

“Yeah, let’s throw him out of an airlock! He’ll have plenty of Resistance company out there!”

“Now hold on a minute—” she began.

“He was nearly the death of _you_ , General Organa!” someone hidden at the back shouted. “Why are you _defending_ him?!”

Leia pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired, and the headache she’d been trying to stave off all morning was starting to close in and hammer at the space behind her temples. She wished she could just stop and grieve for her many losses, losses both old and new. But her people were angry—and rightly so—their calls for retribution and punishment coming from all sides and growing louder and more insistent by the second. The atmosphere was becoming downright volatile, in fact. It was therefore incumbent upon her to deal with the situation decisively and without delay.

The “situation” in question being Captain Poe Dameron. Who was, at this very moment, in the literal hot seat and looking about as gloomy as she’d ever seen him.

“Gentlebeings, please,” she said, trying to raise her voice above the clamor. “ _Please_.”

She waited. Waited some more. She remembered her failed marriage and her son’s fall to the dark side. Eventually, there were grumbles, hisses, whispers, a scattered cough…and quiet.

“Thank you, and we value your input as always,” Leia said once she’d deemed it safe to continue. “Unfortunately, although the Resistance has not yet been broken, we have been soundly beaten, and we have lost many valued and beloved comrades.” Too many deaths. She remembered Akbar and Amilyn and all the rest. She remembered Luke and took a deep, steadying breath. “There are so few of us left. We cannot, therefore, afford to waste energy or resources on vengeance…no matter how tempting.” She glanced at Poe. His shoulders had slumped even lower. He refused to look her in the eye.

“Are you saying he’s just gonna get off scot-free?!” a heated voice from somewhere in the middle of the gathering asked. There were rumbles of discontented agreement.

“It’s not fair,” a second voice chimed in. More scattered agreement.

“That is _not_ what I’m saying. But what I _am_ saying is that we will not tolerate pogroms. How we decide to rule will be final, and all of you,” Leia paused and swept her gaze over the assembled beings, “each and every one of you, will accept it. As will Captain Dameron.”

Leia glanced over to Poe again. He was looking at his feet like he saw something fascinating sprouting from in-between his toes.

Nobody breathed a word of protest.

“Very good. The public portion of this meeting is adjourned. The governing council will reconvene in private to discuss verdict and sentencing. You will, of course, be notified of our decision,” Leia concluded.

***

Nothing to do but wait for the decision that would determine his fate and future with the Resistance.

Poe had been cooling his heels in this same holding cell for hours now. Well, it wasn’t really a holding cell; it was a converted utility closet with an armed guard stationed outside the door, but these days the Resistance was making do with rather less than usual.

He knew he was a big part of the reason for that. Gods, it hurt! For what had to be the ten-thousandth time, he started reciting the names of the dead to the blank, flowstone walls. He liked to change up the order to keep things interesting: “Tallie Lintra, Nix Jerd, Paige Tico—”

“Poe.”

Leia entered the cell. The door slammed shut behind her. They were alone.

“General Organa.” His voice didn’t quaver, even given the grim way she’d said his name, and he was proud of that.

“The council has reached its verdict,” Leia began without preamble. “I won’t bore you with the long list of charges again; you know what they are. The bottom line is that you’ve been found guilty of all of them.”

It was like a sucker punch to the gut. Poe couldn’t breathe. His entire life, everything he’d ever worked for, gone in a flash. Like Vice Admiral Holdo’s last heroic jump to hyperspace.

“However,” Leia continued, seemingly oblivious to Poe’s devastation, “in light of your exceptional leadership during the evacuation of Crait, we have decided to commute your sentence. Two hundred and twenty standard hours of community service.”

Poe’s jaw dropped. “That’s it?! Two hundred and twenty—!”

“You got off easy, flyboy,” Leia interrupted, and now Poe could detect the wry humor in her tone. “I hope you’re as good with a mop and sponge as you are with an X-wing because you and the refreshers are going to get to know each other very well.”

He and Leia stared at each other.

“I-I…I don’t know what to say,” Poe said at last. Okay, he was saying something. That was paradoxical.

“You could say that you’ll learn from your failures and do better next time, but I already know that you will,” Leia said, shrugging. “Or, hmm, I suppose you could thank me. I argued strongly on your behalf, you know.”

Poe blinked. “Well, yes, thank you…but _why_?” He couldn’t resist asking. “I…I let you down most of all, General.”

“Yes, you did,” Leia said flatly, and Poe had to work hard not to wince at that rebuke. “But so have a lot of other men in my life. My husband, my son. Even my own twin brother. I could be sad about it, or wallow in resentment or grief.” She smiled, soft and wistful. “Mostly, though, I’ve just needed to get out of my own way—and if we’re going to defeat the First Order, that’s what you need to do too. Do you think you can do that, Poe?”

Poe gulped and nodded. For once, he honest to goodness had nothing to say.

“It’s a process, I know. Sometimes our hardest trials, and our harshest juries, are the ones we unleash upon ourselves.”

“That’s for sure,” Poe agreed.

“Right,” Leia rapped her knuckles on the door, summoning the guard outside. “Now then, Captain Dameron, let’s see if we can’t find you that mop. Exemplary service will be expected from you henceforth. Starting with the refresher floor tiles— They are to be gleaming and spotless, am I making myself clear?”

Poe came to attention. “Yes, General. Perfectly.”

The door opened.

 

END


End file.
